His Royal Favorite (34 page)

The boy looked as if he might fall over. But it was James’s hand that Ben took, squeezing gently.

James turned to Ben then. “Let me introduce my partner, Benjamin Dahan.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Gregory,” Ben said, and it didn’t feel fake. It didn’t feel artificial. Standing here with James, honoring this brave young man—for the first time, the public side of the job felt meaningful. Felt real.

***

December

“It’s just what I always wanted,” Ben said, holding up his new “couples” Slanket, complete with four arms.

“Now we never have to be apart.” James laughed as he leaned forward for a kiss.

“Come on. Time for your big present.” Ben hadn’t been able to wrap this one. Instead, he’d enlisted the staff’s help in installing it in the room that had once been his separate bedroom and was now in the process of becoming a sort of reading room.

They held hands as Ben led James to the back, then through the door. There, newly installed in one corner was a small table and two chairs. Together they walked forward until James could see it properly: the inlaid wood game board in the top, the marble chess set gleaming.

“It’s beautiful,” James beamed.

Ben thought maybe he still didn’t fully understand the gift. “Last year, you gave me a travel set,” Ben explained. “Because we both assumed I’d be on the move again eventually. So this year I’m giving you a set that stays right here. A set that’s a part of our home.”

James’s smile softened. “That makes this about a thousand times better. Thank you, darling.” They kissed, long and sweet—yet when they parted, there was a wicked gleam in James’s eyes. “We can still play for the same stakes as last year, though, can’t we?”

“You’d better believe it.”

***

January

“James!” Cass stared down at the box, mouth agape. “You didn’t!”

“My best friend is getting married. What better time?” James chuckled as he watched her. “Besides, you made your demands clear often enough.”

“I was
joking
. You know that, don’t you? It was only a joke!”

He nodded. “Only a joke. But still, it gave me the idea. Now come on, take a closer look.”

Jaw still hanging, Cass slowly lifted the tiara from the box. The amethysts twinkled slightly in the light. “It’s too much,” she insisted. “Surely you can’t give away one of the royal tiaras.”

“Not without Grandmother coming for my head. But this was actually one Dad gave Mum as a present. Not part of the official collection.”

“Then it should be your sister’s.”

“Indigo prefers the more traditional tiaras, and it’s not as if she hasn’t plenty to choose from. Don’t worry, I ran it past her and she agreed this one should belong to you. Who else but a Scotswoman should wear it?”

The tiara dated from the 1920s, with its Art Nouveau thistles in amethysts and peridots curved in a sinuous circle. In its organic look, its subtler beauty, and its defiant Scottishness, it might have been made for Cassandra. Once upon a long ago, James had imagined giving it to her to wear at their wedding. That seemed like such a strange dream, now. Far better to give it to her like this, to celebrate her engagement to the man she actually loved.

Cass didn’t appear to know what to say. James ventured, “You like it, don’t you?”

“I adore it. I worship it. I intend to found a small church dedicated to it. My God, James. Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. It’s the least of what I owe you, and besides, you’re going to look beautiful on your wedding day.” Then James hesitated. “Unless you think . . . you know, if wearing it in the ceremony itself would be stepping on Spencer’s toes in some way, I wouldn’t want to eclipse anything he was going to do.”

“Spencer? Don’t worry about him. You never met a man less interested in what a woman had on. Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m not wearing this at my wedding.” Cass’s smile widened. “From now on I’m wearing this everywhere I go. At the cinema. While playing tennis. Wait and see.”

James took the tiara from her and settled it on her head; it shone brightly against her fiery red hair. Then he cradled her face in his hands, caught up once again in how much he loved her, and how lucky he’d been to have her by his side until he was ready to stand alone. “Perfect,” he said. “Absolutely perfect.”

***

February

“My sister the artist,” James said, for about the tenth time.

“I can’t believe it.” Indigo leaned back in the leather booth at the gay bar that had become the hottest nightspot in London, thanks to James and Ben’s frequent patronage. “I got in without them even knowing it was me!”

“Your work stands on its own,” said Eden, Indigo’s artist friend; they were spending more time together, which James thought did Indigo good. “Still, I’d have loved to have seen the professors’ faces when they learned just who ‘P.A. Clarence’ really is.”

Everyone at the table laughed, including James. When he had first learned that his sister intended to try to get into the school of fine art at Oxford University, he had in fact been more worried than enthusiastic.
What if she’s rejected?
he’d said to Ben.
It could set her back, just when she’s been doing so well.

But Ben had given him a look and said,
What if she’s accepted? Think about what that would mean to her. You can’t take away the risk of pain without taking away her chance for what she wants most in the world
.

So James had said nothing, stepped aside, and been absolutely thrilled to be proven wrong.

Not that Indigo hadn’t had her own doubts, but still, encouraged by Eden and Zale, Indigo had finally gone through with the application, complete with submitting pieces of her own work for a portfolio that revealed the breadth of her art in all its allegorical, painful complexity.

His sister had finally shown something personal to the world, and the result was a triumph.

James looked around the bar with pleasure. Once, walking in here had felt like an act of defiance. Now it was simply part of his life. In the corner, Roberto and Nicholas were talking animatedly about something; nearby, Spencer was trying to draw out Zale and having about as much luck as anyone did, save for Indigo. Some months ago, Ben and Cassandra had figured out that they were the only two people in their circle of friends who wholeheartedly enjoyed dancing, which was why they were now out on the floor tearing it up to the Scissor Sisters. And Indigo sat next to him with Eden, accepting the congratulations of a professional artist.

The rubber band remained around Indigo’s wrist, but it was almost invisible beneath her stack of bangle bracelets, just part of the armor with which she faced the world.

***

March

The Firm was fractious today.

Ben was learning to take the temperature of these gatherings. Often they were deadly dull, simply long recitations of what duties people were taking on, what trips they were going to make. Occasionally there were days when they quarreled a bit; he’d watched James and Richard bicker, albeit in a genteel way, over security staff salaries and that sort of thing.

But now, finally, he had a chance to watch them fight it out.

“It’s absurd,” Richard said. “Nicholas is a fully grown man. He has more than done his duty to the nation. Another tour of duty in the RAF is merely a stalling tactic for adulthood.”

“How is serving in the armed forces not the act of an adult?” James protested.

“The point is that Nicholas is meant to take up greater responsibility within The Firm.” The queen’s voice rang out, instantly commanding more attention than anyone else in the room. She never actually spoke more loudly than the others, Ben noticed. She simply commanded more natural majesty than any other royal. “We have been counting on him for some time now. That means his petition to stay with the RAF must be declined.”

James, as usual, stuck up for Nicholas. He was always arguing for the right things, Ben thought—but not always in the smartest ways. “This is Nicholas’s life we’re talking about. It’s not as if he wants to be a beachcomber, for God’s sake. He wants to serve the nation in a productive way. It sounds as if you want to exercise authority over him merely to prove you can.”

“He’s needed here,” Richard insisted. “Particularly now that Amelia is backsliding.”

“She isn’t.” James sat upright. “She had a bad couple of days last week. That’s all. You can’t look at how far she’s come, how much she’s done, and dismiss it that easily. She’s allowed to have some bad days. We all are, aren’t we?”

“Regardless, the therapists said she needs her support system around her. So Nicholas should be near,” Richard said. “Or do you wish to pay attention to her doctors only when they agree with you?”

This was going to devolve fast, Ben thought. So he spoke up, “If I might, Your Majesty—” The queen nodded, so he went on. “Public response to Prince Nicholas’s reenlistment would no doubt be positive. It would not be seen as a personal indulgence, but as a sign of responsibility and maturity.”

Richard cut in, “We know perfectly well it’s a personal indulgence.”

“We don’t know that at all,” James shot back.

Ben ignored them both, paying attention only to the queen. “Prince Nicholas already undertakes some royal duties despite his military service. Perhaps it could be arranged for him to increase those duties to some degree while still in the RAF. A gradual transition, rather than an abrupt one—that should satisfy both the public and the prince. It would allow Prince Nicholas to spend more time with Princess Amelia as well.”

“What does it matter whether the transition is gradual?” Richard said.

“Indigo’s fine,” James insisted again. “Everything that’s going on—all the planning—it’s a lot of pressure for
anyone
.”

The queen held up her hand. “Enough, both of you. I live for the day when you stop fighting like wet cats and learn to present your arguments rationally and thoughtfully, as Ben has done. Thank goodness
someone
in this family is capable of having a discussion in a reasonable manner.”

For once, Richard’s and James’s expressions were exactly the same: complete consternation. Ben managed to keep a straight face.

“We shall put Ben’s idea forward to Nicholas,” the queen said. “If he is amenable, then we can move forward on that basis.”

“Very well,” Richard said. James nodded. Neither could stop staring.

From the end of the table, where he’d been dozing, the king roused himself to say, “What’s that about Nicholas?”

At the end of the meeting, as Ben and James walked out, James muttered, “How did you turn into the queen’s favorite?”

“I’ll never tell.”

***

April

Ben was up to something.

They were playing chess in their den, Happy and Glo snoozing at their feet, so it ought to have been any other night. But James could sense that Ben was preoccupied; their conversation had lagged slightly, weighed down by unspoken thoughts.

But this seemed like the kind of silence that was more promising than foreboding. James simply moved his rook and let Ben return to play.

“You’ve got a whole weekend free again?” Ben asked, never looking up from the chessboard.

“Miracle of miracles.”

“It’s our last break before the big day. So I was thinking, maybe we could head out of town.”

“Really? Where?” So, Ben wanted to take a trip. Another ski outing? Or possibly he’d reconsidered Spencer and Cassandra’s invitation to join them on Spencer’s yacht sometime. James wouldn’t mind seeing whether Ben still fit into that scandalous swimsuit of his.

But Ben surprised him. “One of your other castles.”

That didn’t narrow it down much. “Which one?”

“The one with the dungeon. We could try that game again. If we did, I think it would go better this time.
Much
better.”

James looked up from the board then, and there were no words for the wickedness of Ben’s smile. He murmured, “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

Just the way Ben said it had James almost impossibly turned on. “I think a weekend trip could be arranged.”

***

May

“You’re sure you’re all right,” James said as he settled in across from Indigo.

She laughed. “I’m doing wonderfully. Stop worrying.”

“It’s just—I know this is the biggest public event you’ll ever do.”

Indigo nodded, hand against her chest as though she were collecting herself, but her beautiful smile never dimmed. A glint of mischief in her eyes, she said, “I did tell you once that I thought I could manage the events better if I wore a veil.”

“So you did,” James said, beaming at his sister in her wedding dress.

At that moment the horses began moving, and the carriage began its journey toward St. Paul’s. The billowing lace of Indigo’s skirt surrounded her in the carriage, and covered most of James below the knee; it was a bit as though they were riding on a meringue. James wore his uniform as an honorary colonel of the Irish Guards because the handsome red and gold coat seemed festive enough for the day.

They got closer to the gates of the palace and the waiting crowds. Slightly uneasy, James touched the brim of his forage cap and said, “You know, the hat that really goes with this uniform is a full bearskin. I should’ve worn that. It’s the only way I could’ve outshone you.”

Indigo stuck her tongue out at him, confidently resplendent beneath the Vladimir Tiara. “All right,” she said, slightly breathless. “Here we go.”

The carriage rolled through the gates, and the roar went up from the crowd. Yet Indigo never flinched. If anything, her smile behind her veil only brightened. She began to wave as they went by, and James was able to relax and start to enjoy the day.

And what a day! More sunshine than English weather usually permitted, the crowds ecstatic in their Union Jack hats and T-shirts, and every sight along the route brilliant and gleaming: Everything had fallen into place. It seemed to James as though even the white carriage horses had a bit of prance in their steps.

“Indigo?” he said as he kept waving from the windows of the carriage.